Club
by sketchnurse
Summary: There was no way she was going ANYWHERE in that dress. Unless, of course, he was going with her. Angela's night of girly bonding in a crowded club turns into an excuse to get them into an inevitable situation. B/B.


When Booth goes over to the Jeffersonian to deliver his partner much needed sustenance, he doesn't usually walk in to see her dressed to go out with Angela.

That, however, seemed to be the case today.

He sincerely doubted that the steaming Thai food he had brought over was as hot as Temperance Brennan in that _dress_.

_Wow_.

A blue-grey that matched her eyes perfectly, the satin dress hugged her curves tightly, and the v-neck cut left very little to the imagination. The hem was as short as anything, and as she was turned to the side slightly, he could see that the back plunged down sharply, going down even farther than in the front, leaving a path down to his spot on her back. Booth suddenly got the very real sense that if Brennan were to go out in that dress anywhere, she would have a whole slew of guys lining up to get her number.

Well, he couldn't blame them; his partner was always smoking, and today she seemed to have turned up the heat even more, doubtless on Angela's instruction.

"Was there something you wanted, Booth?" she asked, turning around as Angela finished putting her earrings in.

"Huh?" he said, dazed for about a half-second, before it occurred to him that it would not do well for her to see him checking her out so blatantly. Well, he couldn't help it. It was bad enough, trying to keep his eyes on her eyes instead of her breasts when she wore more professional clothing, but this dress… well, he'd at least have a few more details to add to his fantasy repertoire. "Oh, right, Bones, I, um, brought over some food for you, but I guess you're already…"Gulp. "Going out."

"Yes, I am, but thank you for bringing it over, anyway. Angela assured me that we would have no opportunity for eating once we got to this club, and I appreciate not having to pick anything up on the way there."

"Put your eyes back in their sockets, Booth." Angela said, grinning at the way Booth's jaw was threatening to drop to the floor and perhaps off his body entirely. She'd never seen him look at her like _that_. Sure, she always caught him staring, admiring the way she moved and other such things, but _this_, this was outright ogling.

"Booth's eyes are still in their sockets, Angela, and if they were disconnected from their ocular nerves and out of their sockets, putting them back in wouldn't restore his sight. It would be a futile attempt."

"Bren, I meant that they looked like they were about to pop out. He's been checking you out pretty good."

"Angela, that's impossible. There have only been a few cases of people being able to push their eyeballs out a significant distance, and even then, the eyeballs were in no danger of falling out. Under extreme pressure, however-"

"Extreme pressure, that's for sure." Angela said, cutting her friend off from her ramble. "Agent Studly's been under extreme pressure not to stare at the girls, lest you give him an explanation about biological imperatives and the need to find a suitable mate."

"By 'girls', you mean my breasts, correct? I have to admit, Angela, this dress is _very_ provocative." _Provocative sure was the right word_, Booth thought. _There's no way in hell she's going out dressed like that. She looks like a call girl!_

"Booth," she started, turning towards him. Angela rolled her eyes. _Here we go. _"I am not insulted in any way that you feel the need to 'ogle' me. In fact, if you weren't, I would seriously question your sexuality, and perhaps mine. Angela assured me that this dress was 'sexy as hell', but perhaps I should get a male opinion. What do you think of it?"

To Booth's credit, he only took a few seconds to formulate a response.

"You are NOT going out dressed like _that_." The FBI agent, said, crossing his arms over his chest for emphasis. _Well-sculpted arms, _came the little voice in Brennan's head whose sole aim seemed to be getting her to jump him. _And those pectorals? Yummy, as Angela would say._

"Dressed like what?" Brennan asked indignantly. There Booth went, with his alpha-male tendencies and his annoyingly fierce protection. He acted like she was his girlfriend or something. Ha. If only.

"Like, like that!" Booth said angrily. "If you go out in that dress, people are going to think that you're a, a, a,-"

"Skank? Call girl? Hooker?" Angela supplied, loving the way Booth's face had turned redder and redder as the conversation went on.

"Yeah! I don't want some slimy club-goer trying to pick you up at three am! That's what you're going to get in a dress as short and tight as that one! The bottom barely covers your ass!"

"Angela assured me that this was the type of thing to wear to this club." Brennan said coldly, feeling insulted. There was no need for Booth to call her a prostitute. "I, too, feel that it is too revealing, and I fail to see how I could possibly dance in it." She moved her hips experimentally, and despite everything she had pointed out earlier, Booth felt that his eyes really were going to fall out. He knew how nice her hips were, but seeing them in such tight fabric, well, he certainly needed to get out of there before he spontaneously combusted. "See? No movement at all! But this is what she picked out for me, and we haven't gone out together in a while, so I felt I owed it to her."

"We're going, Sweetie, and you're wearing that dress. Every eye in the building's going to be on you."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Booth mumbled.

"I didn't seem to hear that properly, Booth. What did you say?"

"Nothing." he muttered, feeling his face burn still more fiercely.

"It sounded to me like Booth wants to keep you and that dress all to himself, Bren." Angela said, smirking.

"Actually, Bones, I really came over here to do some… paperwork." Booth said quickly, before Angela could expand on her comment. Damn right he wanted his Bones and her dress all to himself. If he could have it his way, he would take her right now in her office. Sans Angela, of course. He wasn't exactly comfortable with voyeurism or threesomes.

"Booth, we just completed a pile of paperwork last night!"

"Yeah, but these are new." Booth thanked God that he actually did have some paperwork to complete. Granted, he could easily do it on his own, but by this point, he would do anything to keep her from going to a club in such an outfit.

"Actually, Sweetie, maybe we _should _go another time." Angela said, giving Booth a knowing look. "The club's bound to be pretty packed on a Friday, and if Booth _needs_ you, well…" Booth didn't like the emphasis she had placed on _need_. The artist was getting just a little too suggestive, and he didn't want anything to happen that he would regret.

"Angela, you just completely contradicted yourself! A minute ago, you told me very firmly that we were going, and that I was going in this outfit! I can't accept that you changed your mind because we have_ paperwork_ to do."

"Look at him, Bren; he looks like an angry, pathetic puppy." Angela said, gesturing to Booth. "No offense, Booth, you're still a lean, mean, FBI machine. But I think we all know the _real_ reason he doesn't want you to go out."

"What reason's that, Angela? Paperwork seems perfectly legitimate." _And boring, _she thought. _Maybe if he really _did_ want me all to himself…paperwork would be much more interesting with sexual intercourse afterwards. That situation, is, unfortunately, highly unlikely. But it isn't unnatural to fantasize. Just slightly pathetic._

"I told you, I don't want any sleazy guys hitting on her."

"Yeah, or _you_ want to be one of them. Minus the sleazy part. You are most definitely NOT sleazy."

"Angela, for what I'd like to be the last time, Booth and I are just partners, and he has not, does not, and will never hit on me."

"Yeah, right, sweetie. You just keep telling yourself that."

"And I think we shouldn't change our plans because you-" She glared at Booth pointedly. "Are overprotective of me!"

"Fine!" Booth shouted. "Go to your stupid club, but I'm coming with you!"

"So you can keep an eye on me to make sure I don't get into any trouble? I've gone places without you before, Booth, and I've managed just fine."

He struggled for something to say to that. He was quickly running out of reasons for her to spend the night with him, one way or another.

"Look, Bones, you're right, we just did a bunch of paperwork. I just… I like hanging out on Friday nights with you, okay? Maybe going to a club will be good for me."

"Yeah, maybe you'll find someone to spend the night with."

"Angela, Booth doesn't do one-night-stands."

"I know, Sweetie, I was teasing him. But you know I'm right; he'll turn a few heads in that outfit. He's already dressed to go." Sure enough, Booth had changed out of his suit, preparing to spend a casual night with his partner, and was wearing dark slacks and a white t-shirt with a blue button down overtop.

"I have to agree with that statement. You look very attractive tonight, Booth."

The FBI agent blushed at her compliment, averting his eyes.

"Thanks Bones. You look nice too, even though that dress is _way_ too short."

Angela rolled her eyes at the way their argument had turned into another compliment session. If they only saw what everyone else saw…

"I'm aware of that Booth, but it's too late to find something else to wear. If you're coming with us, Booth, perhaps we should eat now and leave when we're finished."  
"Sounds good, Bones. I think there's enough for Angela."

"We do usually get too much, anyway." The artist sighed at the inevitable shift in focus that the night had taken. On the rare occasion that she did something alone with her best friend, half the time they talked about Booth. Now he was going with them on their girl's night, and she only allowed it to happen because of the little spark of hope the image of them dancing together in a sweaty club had sent her way. Maybe tonight would be the night that they realized just how good they could be together. She had no doubt that Booth would want to dance with her, if only to get her away from the other men. But still. A couple of drinks and some steamy dances together, and one of them was bound to do _something_.

They ate their dinner in relative silence, pausing only to discuss their latest case and the unfortunate fate of the woman that had been widowed by the murder. Booth was trying as hard as could to keep his eyes level with Brennan's, but the dress she was wearing offered much more interesting, unseen views. Watching her wipe satay sauce off the corner of her mouth was even more tantalizing with a good view of the cleavage he was sure she had been showing off more often in recent months. And he was pretty sure she was watching him too. On the odd occasion that he turned his attention to Angela, he could feel her eyes on him, examining the way the t-shirt clung to his chest. It felt pretty good to checked out like that by his Bones, he had to admit.

"Are we ready to go?" Angela asked, after Booth had disposed of the takeout containers.

"I think so. Booth, are you ready?"

"Yup. Whose car are we taking?"

"Mine." Angela answered, shaking her keys at them. "Shall we?"

***

"This club is filled to its maximum capacity with people!" Brennan said, as they walked into the large building.

"Yeah, it's packed." Booth agreed, making sure that he didn't lose her by grabbing her hand. Yeah, _that's_ why he did it.

"I told you guys, it's Friday; places like this get pretty full. Let's see if we can get a few seats at the bar." Luckily for them, a group of four had just gotten up to go dancing, and they took their places, Brennan in the centre.

"Let's have a few drinks, and then go out on the dance floor." Angela said, smiling as the bartender went over to them.

They sipped at their various glasses while discussing the case, once again. Booth was getting better at keeping his eyes at eye level, rather than at chest level; the dark lighting was helping. He was getting a bit antsy, however, wanting to take his partner out on the dance floor to show her why she should be out like this with him more often. Angela seemed to read his mind, for the next thing she suggested was a break from the bar.

"Come on, Sweetie, I can tell your partner's just itching to dance with you." she said to her best friend, who gave her a look of doubt.

"It'll be fun, Bones. I have quite a few moves up my sleeves." Booth said with a wink, grabbing her arm and pulling her out into the throng of people. Lights were flashing, and the music was pulsing loudly, the bass running deep through the floor. Brennan loved music like this. She loved letting herself free, dancing to what the composer had put together, letting her body follow the rhythms and chords.

The forensic anthropologist turned around, letting her partner's arms settle around her waist. Neither seemed to have noticed that Angela had disappeared with a foreign looking man, as their attention was completely spent on the other. Brennan placed her arms around his neck loosely, and let her body sway to the music, as Booth moved with her, his hands sliding slowly down to her hips.

Brennan might have blamed the crowdedness of the club for the close proximity that they were dancing in, but Booth didn't need such rationalizations. He knew that he was drawn to her, and if the way she was moving almost completely against his body gave him any indication, she was drawn to him too.

The beat was starting to pick up, as the DJ switched the track to a faster one. Her hips gyrated, as his hands kept their place, gripping her curves through the silky fabric of her dress. The tips of his fingers touched her skin where the dress dipped down in the back, sending involuntary shocks through her body every time they moved.

"Booth." she said, into his ear, wanting him to hear her over the noise of the club. He shivered, feeling the edges of her lips on his skin, driving his mind even more into the realm of what he wished was possible. "Are you getting tired?" Brennan didn't know how long they had been dancing, but the warmth of the club and the fast pace of the music had made her work up quite the sweat, and she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"No." he answered, in a low, husky voice that set her nerves on end. _He _certainly didn't want to stop; he didn't want the feeling of her body against his to go away anytime soon. He was the opposite of tired; he was feeling more alive than he had felt in a long time. And she looked absolutely gorgeous, glowing under the flashing lights, her blue-grey eyes alive with the kind of fire he had only dreamed of.

"Hey you two!" came a voice from the left. Angela had finally found them, after being dragged off by no fewer than twelve people, women included. And she was glad had left them for so long. Both partners were breathless and sweaty, their faces mere millimeters apart.

"Hi Angela!" Brennan panted, breaking out of the dance. She knew Booth was superior, physically, but she hadn't known that he could move like that, so fluid and… sensual. And if she had interpreted the signs correctly, he was just as turned on as she was by the almost erotic movement of their bodies. Of course, Angela just had to interrupt what had to have been the closest she had ever been to Booth in that sense.

"Getting a little sweaty there, Sweetie?" she asked, grinning.

"The tempo of the music is very fast." Brennan answered, Booth's hands still on her hips, unconsciously drawing light circles through the fabric.

"Well, I'm going for another round of dancing with Matt, so you two find me when you want to sit down again, alright?" With that, the artist disappeared into the throng of people, following a tall Spanish man.

Booth smiled at her, his eyes dark and twinkling. Brennan admired his facial structure as he did so, noticing the way the lights threw areas of his face into shadow. Her arms found their way around his neck again, placing her head by his shoulder, and they began to move together again, his hands slipping further down still, almost caressing her derriere. She moved her head from its place, looking into his eyes. She could barely see their usual brown hue, his pupils were so dilated, presumably because of the darkness of the club. Presumably. Then again, her proximity to him had obviously aroused him; she could feel it in his every movement. Their noses were almost touching now, their lips close enough to taste.

She _wanted_ them to touch, the need intensifying the sensation she felt in her body, energy passing between them like electric sparks. He could feel it too, or something like it, she could tell. The grip he had on her strengthened, he pressed unconsciously against her, and they found themselves against a wall, as their movements brought them away from the centre of the throng.

"Bones…" Booth whispered, and though she couldn't hear him, she knew what he had said.

"Booth…" she whispered back, winding her hands through his hair, while his hands made their way back up her body, resting just below her bust.

"Oh God, Bones…" his voice came out as a rough moan, as their faces drew closer, her body on the wall, his not far behind. He looked into her eyes, and the colour of her irises was the last thing he saw.

She pulled his head the extra inch, touching his lips with her own soft pair, and he pressed her firmly against the wall, kissing her fiercely, with every bit of passion he could muster. She responded in kind, letting their tongues dance as heatedly as their bodies had minutes before. His hands moved up and down her body, from her waist, to her breasts, and back down, lower and lower until her was holding her ass, so sorely tempted to hitch up the few inches of skirt attached to the dress.

"Get a room!" someone yelled, as their kissing intensified still more, but the couple didn't make any move to stop.

Angela heard the call of anti-PDA from a few feet over, and wasn't surprised to see that her best friend and her studly partner were the ones up against a nearby wall, making out like it was their last few minutes on earth. In fact, maybe it was a little bit more than making out. As much as she wanted them to bump uglies, the middle of a crowded club wasn't really the best place, and Brennan didn't seem to be stopping the path of Booth's hands; her brain obviously not processing the fact that perhaps now wasn't the best time for him to see if she was wearing silk or cotton.

She excused herself from her dance partner, slipping him her number, and made her way over to the lustful couple, whose roaming hands and frenzied mouths had cleared a small circle around them. She tapped Booth on the shoulder, which, predictably, didn't have any effect on him, before settling for stomping on his foot. He leapt a half foot into the air, detaching himself from a surprised Brennan.

"Sorry, Booth, but it needed to be done. I'm assuming that you two want a ride home now?" Both partners looked at her sheepishly, more than a little red. The FBI agent's hands hung loosely by his side, longing for Brennan's… anatomy, again. Screw Angela and her timing. He was just getting started with his beautiful partner, and really didn't appreciate the interruption. The foot stomping didn't help either. Though it would probably be a good idea to go back to one of their apartments, and quickly. Perhaps he should have been thinking rather than blinding reaching for any bit of his Bones that he could get.

"I think so, yes." Brennan answered, trying to sound her usual professional self, which was rather hard considering she was out of breath and more turned on than she had been in a very, very long time.

"Okay, well, let's get you two out of here before something happens and we get banned. I'm assuming you guys want the shortest route possible to a bedroom, so it looks like I'm driving you to Brennan's place."

"Uh, yeah, sure." Booth said distractedly. Someone's not-so-subtle hand was creeping up the back of his shirt.

They walked awkwardly over to Angela's car, the fire that had come alive in Booth still blazing, itching to be let out. He grabbed Brennan's hand, squeezing it with an urgency that seemed to convey his need, for she smiled at him seductively.

"You know, Angela, I'm rather surprised. In all of the scenarios I imagined with you finding me and Booth in a compromising position, you let out a high pitched squeal. You've been remarkably calm about everything." Booth nearly choked on the gulp of coke he had just taken from the bottle they had left in the car. Imagined scenarios with him? Compromising position? Angela_ finding_ them? Man, had he _ever _been missing something.

"It's kind of hard to hear a squeal in a loud club." Angela answered, grinning as she opened her car. "But I'm sure you'll hear one just fine in a dark bedroom." And with that remark, she let the flustered couple into the backseat, giving Booth a lecherous wink before driving them off to safety.


End file.
